I accept the telephone but wait to speak.
Stopping the swing with his foot, Dusty stands up and runs a hand through his hair before kissing his mom on the cheek.
“See ya,” he whispers to me.
Thomas takes the few steps down the porch and walks toward the car. Ben and Petey follow him, slipping into the backseat. Valarie is in the front and her mom is driving. As they back out of the driveway, Rebecka flips them off.
“Hi, Mom,” I say into the receiver, purposely lightening my tone. My heartbeat feels like it’s in my throat.
“I want you to come home tonight.” She’s defensive, but I don’t want to go. Not yet.
“One more night, please,” I say loud enough for Tommy to hear. Her eyes are gentle. She touches my face, wiping the same spot Thomas tried to clean.
Mom exhales. “You’ve been gone for two days, Leigh. What are you doing there that you can’t do here?”
Desperately, I meet Tommy’s thoughtful expression with my panicked one. She holds out her hand for the phone and I easily hand it over.
“Hello, Teri.” Her voice is calm. “I should have called you earlier, but I ordered pizza for the girls. I don’t have a problem driving her home in the morning.”
A few seconds pass where Tommy nods her head as if my mother can see her, and then a wide smile spreads across her face. I know I’ve gotten my way.
She winks like her son.
I place the phone back on my ear in time to hear, “Don’t ever undermine me like that again, Leighlee.”
I screen my excitement and say, “Okay.”
AFTER A full day under the summer sun, my hair is more strawberry than blonde, and I’ve earned freckles across my nose and cheeks. The top of my shoulders are burned a light pink, and my hunger is bottomless.
“We should make cream soda floats after this,” I say, filling my face with cheese and tomatoes. My best friend and I are stomach-down on the floor with our plates in front of us.
“Okay,” Rebecka agrees, making faces at the TV. “Are we really watching this shit?”
“It’s my second favorite movie.” I laugh, defending it. “It’s cute when they save the turtles, and then the boy comes clean about burning down the church. It’s sweet.”
Becka blinks at me like I’ve gone mad. “I threw up in my mouth a little.”
I see Thomas in her smirk, and it puts that beat right back in my throat.
“What’s your first favorite?” she asks. She bumps her foot with mine.
“The Wizard of Oz.”
“You are such a girl.”
“What’s yours?” I ask, knowing it’s going to be something scary or boy-like.
“Terminator II: Judgment Day and Miss Congeniality, but if you tell anyone I’ll kill you while you sleep.”
I die laughing.
Around midnight, we head up to bed and crash above the blankets.
We never make the floats.
“LEIGHLEE.”
I bury my face deeper into the pillow.
“Bliss.”
I roll into a ball, hiding from the voice.
“Princess-girl, wake up.”
I open my eyes. “Leave me alone.”
He laughs. I sit up and cover my sleep breath with my hand.
Thomas kneels on my side of the bed, holding a finger over his lips. “Quiet, little girl.”
I nod and mouth, “Okay.”
“Come outside with me. You’ll need this.” I take Thomas’ hand and slowly slip out of messy bedsheets. He hands me his blue baseball hoodie with Castor and the number one across the back.
I slip washed, worn cotton over my head, surrounding myself in his vanilla-smoke scent. The sleeves fall past my hands and the hem brushes mid-thigh. I feel protected inside what is his.
“And shoes. Where are they?” Thomas asks, looking around the dark room.
I point to my jellies by the door.
Thomas drops my shoes at my feet, pulling the hoodie’s hood over my head. He takes my hand and leads me out of the room. “It’s kind of cold outside.”
Rebecka is dead to the world and the rest of the house is quiet. Lucas and Tommy are home; the light from their TV shines beneath their bedroom door. I step soft on my tiptoes as we pass their room.
“What time is it?” I ask, whispering.
“A little past three.” Thomas turns on the kitchen light. “I just got home.”
I squint against the light and yawn as I pull out a stool from the counter. The boy who doesn’t look tired, but absolutely high, poses in front of the refrigerator with his hands in his pockets. He seems apologetic, with tender eyes. And confused, with his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I shouldn’t have woken you up. You can go back to bed if you want.”
I shake my head. “Do you want a cream soda float?”
Thomas exhales. “Yeah, that would be awesome.”
We drink them outside in the woods, away from the house. It’s moonlit-dark out and I can hear little creatures crawling around, making their homes in trees and dirt. But I love the sound of Dusty’s voice between the stars. He leans against a tree, and I’m in front of him with my legs crossed.
He finishes his float and tries to drink mine, but I don’t let him. I’ve wanted it since margherita pizza slice two.
But Thomas’ sad faces are hard to withstand.
“Is Valarie your girlfriend?” I ask, feeding him a spoonful of my ice cream.
He wipes off a drip of vanilla soda from his chin and swallows. “Why?”
“It seems like she is.”
“You think so?” he asks.
“You’re with her a lot. She calls the house. She wears your sunglasses. You let her into your room and shut the door.”
Thomas smiles. “I let you in my room and shut the door, does that mean you’re my girlfriend, Bliss?”
“No.” I spoon some more ice cream. “But I’m different, and she’s pretty.”
Maybe she tries too hard, but exactly how stunning Valarie is only becomes more obvious as time goes by. She’s sexy. And her beauty will always overshadow her flaws.
“You’re prettier, Leigh. Trust me.” Thomas leans his head back against the tree, closing his eyes. “And she isn’t my girlfriend. It isn’t like that.”
“Why not? You kiss her. I saw you.” He has to remember.
It was the last day of school before summer vacation. Valarie was standing with her back facing the lockers, dressed in short shorts with Doc Marten boots. I remember thinking, why would she wear those boots with those shorts? Then she saw me and waved. I waved back, but she was … busy.
Thomas was there, pressed against her. He kissed her on the mouth.
I’ve seen my parents kiss—simple and guarded. And I’ve seen Lucas and Tommy kiss. They’re full of passion. They kiss with their mouths open, and they use their tongues. Tommy giggles between kisses, and it’s sweet. Lucas likes to kiss down her neck.
Thomas didn’t kiss Valarie that way. He kissed her with his tongue, but it was outrageous and far from lovely. It was like he was mad.
“I kiss her sometimes,” he says carefully. His voice brings me back to the now.
“What about other stuff?”
“I’m not talking to you about this, Leigh. She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t—” He pauses. “I don’t feel anything for her. Not like that.”
“Then why do you kiss her?”
Both of his hands are in his hair. His cheeks are full of air. “Leigh, come on.”
“That stuff in the note, do you do that?” I ask.
“Do I let her suck my dick?” he asks, standing up. It sounds dirtier being said out loud. “Is that what you want to know, Bliss? Why?”
“I’m only curious.” I stand up, too. I’m not afraid of him, not like everyone else is. This is only Thomas.
“You’re little, Leighlee, stay little.”
“You’re fifteen, act fifteen.”
He turns away fr
om me and flexes his hands into fists. He kicks a pointed rock across the dirty ground. It hits a tree and a bird flies from its branches. “You have no idea.”
“About what?” I cross arms over my chest. Then it occurs to me, his sidekicks aren’t here. “Where are Petey and Ben?”
“Not here, obviously.” Thomas scoffs.
“Where?”
“Home.”
“Why?”
He laughs, looking at me over his shoulder. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re mean to me.” I sound young again. This is why he doesn’t tell me stuff. I’m only twelve. I’m a princess baby to him.
“Rule number four: no fighting in the woods after we’ve had cream soda floats,” he jokes in an attempt to ease the mood. His hands are slack at his sides.
“Rule number five,” I say, sitting back down. “Never keep a secret from me.”
“Maybe.”
A tiny black ant runs across the top of my foot. I brush it off and say, “Rule number six: no lies.”
He shakes his head, smirking. “No. Rule number six: no promises.”
“Okay,” I agree easily. “No promises, ever.”
“Promise?” he asks.
“Promise.”
“And that’s it.”
“That’s the only one.”
THE GROUND becomes wet and the breeze starts to blow with the slowly rising sun. It’s been a long night, and I’m fading with the stars, yawning and forcing my eyes open. Dusty, comfortable and wide awake against the tree, nudges my foot with his.
“Want to head back, little girl?” he asks with a small smile on his lips.
I roll my eyes and stretch my arms out in front of me, expanding tired muscles. “Rule number seven,” I say. “You can’t call me little girl anymore.”
He stands up and wipes dirt from his jeans before offering me his hand. As he pulls me up, he says, “Rule number eight: you can’t make a rule for everything.”
“Rule number nine: you can’t make a rule to censor my rules.”
“Okay, but rule number ten is we have a daily limit of created rules. Ten rules a day. That’s it. Five for me. Five for you.”
“Fine.”
He smiles bright in the dark. “Fine.”
“You’re a jerk.”
Thomas bends down so I can hop up onto his back. “Jump on, Bliss.”
I lean my chin on his shoulder and breathe easy on the walk back. His feet shuffle over damp leaves, and he slips in mud, barely righting himself before I fall off. I hold on a little tighter after that; if we go down, we’re going together.
A heaviness sets in my chest as the Castor home comes into view. I tell my heart to calm, afraid Thomas might feel it against his back. He doesn’t mention it if he does.
But he sees the fireflies before I do.
“Slip off, baby.”
Not to scare them away, I fall to my feet quietly, careful not to breathe too loudly. Thomas is able to sneak up on them, silently. He catches one between the palms of his hands, cupping it safely between ten fingers.
“They’re never as bright as they are on TV,” he says, showing me the flickering bug.
“You’re right,” I say. “But I love it anyway.”
“Of course you do,” he whispers, letting it go.
It’s my thirteenth birthday and I can’t wait to be fourteen.
We don’t invite the Castors over to celebrate with us this year. I’m disappointed but don’t act so. It’s a school night and spending some time with my parents at my dad’s favorite restaurant isn’t bad.
“You’re officially a teenager, Leighlee. Do you feel any different?” he asks, scraping his fork against his plate, cutting through a rib eye.
You have no idea how different I feel.
“No.” I smile, eating my chicken fried steak. “I feel the same.”
“Good, because you’re still my baby girl.”
While my parents talk about work and education and home, my mind wanders. School’s been in session for a few months and it’s strange not having Thomas around again. He’s in high school now. He likes it. He loves it. He seems to think I’ll like it there, too.
“It’s easy to get lost,” he told me a few weeks ago.
“I’ll find you,” I said.
He smiled and turned the volume up on the TV—his way of telling me the conversation was over.
Ben and Petey don’t stay over as much as before, which leaves me and Dusty by ourselves more often. When I ask, Thomas comes up with a lame excuse as to why they boys aren’t around. But I think I know why.
But this weekend will be different. I told Becka I wanted to watch movies, but she scoffed and told me not to be stupid.
Her mouth is as bad as Thomas’. “We’re not watching fucking movies, Leigh. It’s your birthday. We’re doing birthday shit. Mom bought wine coolers.”
Rebecka’s throwing me a small—secret-from-my-parents—birthday party. Everyone’s spending the night. One more day and this weekend is mine.
Once our plates are empty and our stomachs are full, our waitress delivers a slice of chocolate cake with one pink lit candle on top to our table. She and the rest of the staff stand in a circle around my chair and sing their version of “Happy Birthday” to me. My parents watch proudly.
I can’t help but wonder if they’d be this proud if they knew I sleep in Thomas’ bed every weekend. That we sometimes sneak out into the woods and play our very own games of hide-and-seek? Would Dad call me his baby girl if he found out that I like wearing Thomas’ hoodies as much as I like holding his hand?
I wish that neither of my parents ever has to find out before blowing out the candle.
When we get home, I sneak the phone off the receiver and head to my room. My vanity is covered in birthday cards and flowers. Tommy had a bouquet of red, orange, and violet cosmos, the October birth flower, sent to me at school.
“Flowers a la Leighlee Bliss,” Becka said, kissing my cheek.
They make my room smell amazing.
I brush my thumb over an orange petal before picking up the card Oliver drew for me. I open it up, looking back at a charcoal portrait of myself. I didn’t know Oliver could draw. But he’s amazing.
It’s impossible not to smile as I think about the birthday I’ve had. There’s a new pair of pajamas from my mother lying on my bed. After pulling off the tags, I slip into the purple flannel pants and the matching top and creep into bed. I turn off the lamp and lower the ringer on the cordless.
Ten minutes later, it rings.
“Happy birthday, Bliss.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Thank you, Thomas.”
REBECKA SNAPS her thumb in front of my face. I’ve been daydreaming all afternoon.
“My parents had me up late,” I lie. I was on the phone with her brother until after midnight.
Rebecka accepts my untruth, bunching her red sweater into a pillow-like ball and shoving it in my direction. She takes my algebra book and my incomplete assignment and starts solving my problems.
“Catch some sleep, Leigh. We have a long night ahead of us.” The black cherry sucker she has in her mouth moves against her back teeth.
I roll my eyes but don’t argue. Red cotton smells like friendship: pinecones and Love Spell—fresh.
By lunch, my head is bearable, but still lack-of-sleep hazy. I can’t stop thinking about what’s going on between me and Thomas. We haven’t talked about why we keep what we do a secret, but the reasons don’t need to be spoken out loud. If his parents found out, they might feel obligated to tell my mom and dad. And I don’t want Becka to feel like I’m using her. She’s my best friend most of all, but I want to keep my time with Dusty. I won’t give it up.
“Did you hear about your brother, Rebecka?” Kelly asks from across the lunch table.
She makes it impossible for us to forget she’s with Petey. He denies it, but we’ve all seen them together. It drives Rebecka wild when this girl prete
nds to know the boys better than she does herself.
“I haven’t heard anything about Thomas. But Pete did bring his girlfriend to the house this week. She was nice, not slutty like you.” Becka shoves an orange slice in her mouth and smiles an orange-peel smile.
Smitty snorts, looking at his girlfriend-not-girlfriend with an easy-to-read expression. She pulls the orange peel out of her mouth and throws it at Kelly. It hits Katie and she screams.
“Now what were you saying about my brother?” she asks.
Kelly’s hazel eyes well up and her porcelain cheeks blush. It probably doesn’t feel good to learn again and again that the person who you think is your boyfriend doesn’t return the feelings, but she does this to herself. All Kelly has to do is shut up and leave Rebecka alone.
“He had sex with Valarie, but you probably knew that,” Kelly says, knocking the orange peel off the table.
Everything in me locks up. I don’t breathe. I don’t speak. The broken off piece of banana in my hand drops to my paper lunch bag, but the liar in me recovers quickly. I roll my eyes.
“Don’t listen to her,” I tell my girl.
But Rebecka’s terrible at hiding her true feelings. Anger spills from her in gallons. Before Smitty or I can do anything, my best friend has one of her dirty shoes on the tabletop and she’s launching herself at the instigator. Becka gets her in a headlock, but I can’t help feeling disappointed.
I want to kill Kelly.
After my other half is hauled off to the principal’s office and Kelly is walked to the school nurse, I head to the girls’ restroom and drop my backpack on the counter. I stare at myself in the mirror long after the class bell has rung. My eyes roam over my speckled freckles, pouty lips, and pale skin.
Unconvinced green eyes look back at me.
I fluff my hair and pinch my cheeks until they’re bright pink, but I’m not this girl. I’m not hard like Valarie. Or sexy.
I don’t know what part of me hurts or where it comes from, but I cry before wiping my face dry and standing tall. I’m important to Thomas. Valarie is someone I’ll have to deal with until … I don’t know. Until something.
At the end of the school day, Tommy is out front waiting for me. “Rebecka isn’t allowed on school grounds until Wednesday, but she’s at home waiting for you,” she says.
Innocents Page 9
